


Blame Game

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Abducting Murphy’s Law Spoilers, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, gratuitous chip eating and finger licking in a way that isn’t supposed to be sensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 03:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18335711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Doofenshmirtz and Dakota are complete opposites right now: Doofenshmirtz blames Perry completely for their fight, but Dakota only blames himself for the fight he’s had with Cavendish.





	Blame Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Priestlyislove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priestlyislove/gifts).



> Priestlyislove, on Discord, said:
> 
> “Doof and Dakota are complete opposites right now where Doof blames Perry completely for the fight and Dakota only blames himself and I want them to talk about that. I want Dakota to ask Doof if he thinks it’s his fault at all and I want Doof like ‘it’s not my fault and it’s not your fault either’ because he’s been pushed around enough in his life and he won’t stand for him or anybody else to beat themselves up over problems they didn’t cause”

Having someone around to talk to is… nice.

“It’s not fair.”

Having someone around who doesn’t talk back to him, who just listens without judgement, who doesn’t remind Heinz of _him_ at all, nope, not a bit, is… good. He’d even go out on a limb and say it’s healthy.

“Is it, Planty the Potted Plant?”

...in a way.

Heinz sighs heavily and turns away from the behatted, potted plant sitting innocuously in the far corner of Doofenshmirtz Good Incorporated. It’s no use. Not even Planty the Potted Plant can cheer him up right now.

“Dr. D?”

Heinz whirls around in the spinning chair he’s sitting in and comes face-to-face with a confused-looking Dakota holding a bag of chips.

“Were you just talking to a plant?”

Heinz crosses his arms. “Yes,” he says, fully prepared to get defensive of his coping mechanisms. Fine, sure, they’re not _great_ coping mechanisms, but he’s doing his best to deal with the loss of his best friend and arguably most important person (platypus) in his life. At least he’s not turning back to being  _evil._

To Heinz’s surprise, though, Dakota merely shrugs. “Yeah, alright. I thought so.” He crosses the shed-turned-lab in a few wide steps, letting the door fall closed behind him. “Chips?” he asks, offering the bag. Heinz considers the greasy shine of Dakota’s lips for a moment before giving into the vice and accepting the snack by sticking his hand into the bag. He comes out with a handful of crunched-up crumbs, which he licks from his fingers without a second thought.

“I wanted to ask ya’ somethin’,” Dakota says, the bag crinkling as he shoves his own hand back into it. He sounds nervous, which Heinz writes off immediately as a side effect of joining him in his lab. Milo and his little friends always seem to get nervous in here, too. He’s pretty sure they all must suffer from some kind of strange science-related claustrophobia, or something. “D’ya have a minute?”

“Sure,” Heinz says, gesturing to the extra chair on the other side of his makeshift desk. It’s stacked high with a mixture of clean and dirty clothes and miscellanous -inators; he watches Dakota gingerly shift the pile from the chair to the corner of the desk before he sits.

Dakota swallows a mouthful of chips and licks his lips. “Dr. D,” he begins, and then stops. He just… full stops, like he’s _broken_ or _frozen_ or something, and for a brief second, Heinz is mildly concerned that one of his -inators has somehow managed to catch Dakota in crossfire. That certainly seems to be happening more often than it did when he’d been _evil._ Or… maybe it’s always happened the same amount, and he’s just noticing it more now because the -inators are all close range?

Hm. Either way, Dakota stares at him with wide eyes, and Heinz nearly reaches for his -inator pile when Dakota takes in a shuddering breath and lets it out slowly. _Phew._ Heinz relaxes back into his seat and blinks, waiting for Dakota to continue.

“Do you really think it’s my fault?” When Dakota does speak, there’s a heaviness to his tone that smacks Heinz _hard,_ right in the chest. And it’s deliberate, too, a question that requires no further clarification despite the seemingly-vague nature of it on the surface.

But it’s not the question Heinz expected. He frowns, thick brows knitting together above eyes that squint at Dakota like he’s never quite seen him properly before. _“What?”_

Dakota looks away, gaze darting somewhere towards Planty the Potted Plant instead of staying where Heinz can meet it. “Do you really think _Ca_ vendish leaving was my fault?” he repeats, clarifying it even though Heinz is already formulating an answer. His mind moves too fast for even his own comprehension, sometimes.

“No,” Heinz says. Exclaims. He… shouts the word, a little, and doesn’t miss the way Dakota flinches at the sudden volume. Heinz does his best to lower his voice, but there’s no less vehemence in his tone as he continues, “you did nothing wrong. From what you’ve told me, Cavendish was being a hotheaded _jerk,_ and he didn’t deserve you.”

“Hey—“

“No,” Heinz repeats, waving his arms rapidly in front of himself to keep Dakota from interrupting. “Da _ko_ ta, I can’t believe you think it’s your _fault_! You’ve done so much for the guy, and he just picked up his _hat_ and walked out like you’re some kind of disposable— Oh, I don’t know, something that’s... really disposable. A camera? Are cameras still disposable?” With a mental note to look that up later, Heinz forces himself back on track. “Look, Dakota. You’re a good guy. You’ve done a lot for your partner, and he _turned around_ treated you like you’re _dirt._ You don’t deserve that, and you don’t have to _take_ it.”

Dakota looks far from convinced. He stares down into his bag of chips like it contains the answer to all of his problems, and then solemnly, wordlessly, tilts the bag towards Heinz again.

Heinz takes another handful of chips. Chiplets? They feel like chiplets. They’re much too small to be deemed actual _chips_.

“If I’ve learned _anything_ from living with the Murphy’s these past weeks, it’s that when life kicks you down, you don’t have to lie down and let it happen. You can stand back up and laugh in life’s face and tell life to suck on a lemon!” Heinz licks his fingers. “Or several lemons. Or a battery-powered lemonade-inator,” he adds gratuitously, gesturing towards one of the handheld -inators in the precarious pile between them on the desk. When Dakota follows his gaze, but stays his silence, Heinz lets out a heavy sigh and leans forward.

“It Isn't your fault, Dakota,” he says seriously, and he can _see_ Dakota’s Adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallows.

“Okay,” Dakota whispers. “Okay. It… It isn’t my fault.”

Heinz leans back again, satisfied. “No. No, it isn’t,” he agrees. Maybe having someone to talk to who _can_ listen, who _can_ talk back to him, isn’t such a bad thing after all. He reaches for the lemonade-inator, narrowly avoiding sending the rest of the pile crashing down onto the floor as he tugs it out. “Now, do you wanna see this baby in action.”

Dakota doesn’t crack a smile, but he does cock his head and shove a miraculously-whole chip into his mouth, gaze intent on the -inator. “Alright,” he says, and Heinz grins and jumps out of his seat with a flourish, excited beyond measure to show off his -inator to someone who _actually_ seems to want to see it.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~they be fuckin’ *eyes emoji*~~
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Kudos/comments are love!! Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans!


End file.
